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Bitter Solo Album on CD

When Bob Hate disappeared in 1999, all he left us were the songs that would become the 2003 greatest hits collection, 'Like a King.' So it was stunning when he reappeared in Nashville in the summer of 2008 doing a timid and tiny reunion with one of his Dallas-era bands. 'I just called Chet and the other fellas, and suddenly we were in a studio again. It was sort of odd.' But after that reunion had fallen through, Bob retreated again, this time to his Albuquerque compound, a sprawling home in the desert where he'd been holed up for a couple of years. On my first visit there, we talked in the back yard about the ill-fated attempt at bringing his old band back together. "I thought the music would be enough," he said, while polishing off a piece of chocolate cake about the size of a 4-slice toaster. When I came by the next morning, his houseboy let me in, and I could hear Bob working on something in the small studio he'd built in the northwest wing. I stood outside the door, hoping perhaps to hear the beginning of a song, one that would lead him to this new solo project. But after awhile I gave up and waited in the atrium for him to come out. When he did, hours later, his enormous bulk seemed to fill the room. I thought about the music he'd already given us over the years, dozens of masterpieces, all aching and beautiful. I wondered what was next for him. I asked, 'New song?' 'No,' he said. 'I was just looking at porn.' -- Hector 'The Brim' Torres for the 'Torque Ramada Times'

When Bob Hate disappeared in 1999, all he left us were the songs that would become the 2003 greatest hits collection, 'Like a King.' So it was stunning when he reappeared in Nashville in the summer of 2008 doing a timid and tiny reunion with one of his Dallas-era bands. 'I just called Chet and the other fellas, and suddenly we were in a studio again. It was sort of odd.' But after that reunion had fallen through, Bob retreated again, this time to his Albuquerque compound, a sprawling home in the desert where he'd been holed up for a couple of years. On my first visit there, we talked in the back yard about the ill-fated attempt at bringing his old band back together. "I thought the music would be enough," he said, while polishing off a piece of chocolate cake about the size of a 4-slice toaster. When I came by the next morning, his houseboy let me in, and I could hear Bob working on something in the small studio he'd built in the northwest wing. I stood outside the door, hoping perhaps to hear the beginning of a song, one that would lead him to this new solo project. But after awhile I gave up and waited in the atrium for him to come out. When he did, hours later, his enormous bulk seemed to fill the room. I thought about the music he'd already given us over the years, dozens of masterpieces, all aching and beautiful. I wondered what was next for him. I asked, 'New song?' 'No,' he said. 'I was just looking at porn.' -- Hector 'The Brim' Torres for the 'Torque Ramada Times'